#to places where bartenders wear yoga pants to work

[nice-bright-colors]

When did this become a thing?

I know that I’m old. I like to think that I’m not a skeevy old man perv, but when did female bartenders wearing yoga pants to work become a thing?

I’m all for being comfortable. I work remotely, so I’m usually not in a collared shirt. Plus my camera is usually always off. There was a time when people just did business over the phone then met in person.

It used to be really tight jeans, but I suppose those aren’t practical all the time. Maybe because it’s V-day and they want all the lonely dudes at the bar to get some eye candy? Side note, I’m most likely in that group tonight.

I can tell you this guy doesn’t mind the other bartender either with her plaid skirt and open cleavage red top. Must be V-day, although I’m not complaining.

However, the yoga pants at work thing? With a hoodie nonetheless? Again, she’s a great bartender, and she has a great ass——so I’m not complaining. Just curious.

[rosewaterandivy]

1. not passive but aggressive

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, depictions of drinking to excess, cursing, questionable deflection tactics from reader, not so veiled references to BigDick!Steve, roughhousing (inspired by this scene from Just Friends), Steve’s inability to win a fight

A/N: Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. Here’s 3.3K of minor exposition and mostly chaos; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

series masterlist

previous || next

Then - Fall term, October 

The bourbon uncomfortably burned its way down your throat as you finished the glass. Sure, it was only slightly, but in your normal, non-drink addled mind, that enough was the signal for you to pack it up and head home. Your head cocked to the right as you meditated on the thought, before deciding against it.

You signaled to the barkeep for another round and mindlessly checked your phone. Nada, nothing, zip - of course no one was wondering where you were, you’re the “stable” one. Another glass was set in front of you, along with a bowl of pretzels and the advice to, “Eat something; I’ll call a car to take you home.”

A scoff came from your mouth as you lifted the drink to your lips, “I’ll car a call to take you.” Regardless, the pretzels looked somewhat appetizing and you grabbed a handful to shove into your mouth. You eyed the barkeep maliciously as they placed the call and continued to nurse your drink.

Nancy’s phone began to ring as she toweled her hair dry in the bathroom. Glancing at the number, she answered and placed the call on speakerphone, “Hello?”

She could faintly hear music making its way down the line, “Hi Nancy, this is Kyle from The Hideout. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but a friend of yours is here right now and has been for some time.” He said, adding your name for good measure.

Nancy raised a brow, “Is she alright?” She cleared her throat slightly and wiped her palm against the mirror. “Do you know what time she got there?”

Kyle, the bartender on duty, sighed audibly, “I don’t know ma’am, she was here before I clocked in, I guess.” He sounded uncomfortable or annoyed, knowing you he was probably a little bit of both. “I’m only calling because I’ve cut her off and told her I’d arrange a ride home for her; I wanted to give you a heads up since the ICE contact wasn’t answering.”

“Okaaay,” she drawled, “That’s fine.” She wrapped the towel around her torso and made to open the bathroom door, “I’ll be there in a few minutes; thanks Kyle.” She ended the call and passed through the living room on her way to change. 

Steve and Eddie were zoned out in front of the TV watching something or other while Robin busied herself in the kitchen. “Hey Nance,” she greeted with a nod, “Everything okay?” 

Nancy threw a smirk her way as she entered her room, closing the door slightly to change. She rifled through her dresser and settled on wearing a matching set of work-out clothes and a black jacket. “Hey guys,” she called through the door as she stepped into her yoga pants, “I have to go pick-up Trouble at the bar and she’s not doing too well, according to bartender Kyle.” 

Nancy finished dressing and stepped into the living area of the loft. Robin was still in the kitchen, wiping down counters while Eddie and Steve had killed the volume on whatever they were watching. “Aww, she having a bad day?” Eddie asked in a curious tone, eyes glancing to Nancy.

She shrugged, “More than likely, yeah. I’m thinking she’ll have to crash here, if that’s alright with everyone?”

The roommates chorused their agreement and Steve turned the volume back up on the TV. Nance grabbed some keys from the table by the door and inquired as to what they were watching. “Rocky Horror!” Eddie blurted as Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s a bona-fide classic and he still hasn’t seen it.”

With a glance of pity directed toward Steve, Nancy opened the door. “Congratulations; see you losers in a bit.”

When Nancy arrived at the bar, she spotted you immediately because well, it was fairly difficult not to. Kyle, as promised, had cut you off and you did not take the news of that terribly well. You had turned into a slump on the bartop, “Kyle, my man, my dude, my guy,” you implored in earnest while making grabby hands, “How could you betray a bitch like that?” Your lips fell into a pout in a sad attempt to lure Kyle into serving you more bourbon. “Look at the-the uh, … bottle there. It’s so close to being a goner man, c’mon just do me a solid.”

Kyle, resolute in his decision, sighed and shook his head, “It’s still a no from me,” His eyes brightened as he spotted Nancy. With a nod to you he replied, “Nice effort though,” and brusquely went to serve other customers.

Nancy laid a deliberate hand on your shoulder, “Okay, time to go,” she chorused. Your face broke into a soft smile, “Natty Light! What’re you doing here?” Your speech was noticeably slurred but you seemed pretty content. “D-did I call you?”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she maneuvered you into a standing position. “You did not,” she supplied while grabbing your purse and slinging it over your shoulder. “But Kyle over there did, said you’d need a ride home.”

At the mention of the bartender, you grimaced. “Oh, you mean Chairman Kyle of the Sober Socialist Society?”

Kyle, still in earshot, volleyed back, “I am not a Communist!”

“I didn’t call ya a commie, you dumbass!” you huffed, struggling to face him as you were being herded out the door, “I don’t know your personal political beliefs,” you babble, “We’re not that close!” You continued to grumble to yourself as Nancy led you through the door and onto the sidewalk in front of the bar. She guided you to the car around the corner from the bar, mindful as you teetered over the pavement.

It was a struggle to get you inside the car with the flailing legs and colorful epithets directed at Kyle, but she managed it. This night was not one of your best, but Nancy doubted she could get a decent answer as to why out of you in your current state. As she shifted the car into gear she also made sure your seatbelt was clicked in, and then proceeded into the intersection. 

Steve was in agony. 

Eddie had forced him into watching this overly saturated horror musical under some forgotten pretense. And eventually Robin had joined them, which somehow required Eddie to get her caught up on everything he’d missed. “Okay, so this sweet transvestite from transexual Transylvania, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, is like a mad scientist and creates their own companion ala Frankenstein.” Robin had nodded along diligently as the man enthusiastically explained the plot. “But there’s this storm and flat tire that waylays the sweethearts, right? And they have to seek shelter at Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s creepy old house for the night.”

Hearing the keys in the door, Eddie paused the film. “Oh thank god,” Steve sighed in relief. He ignored Eddie’s glare as Nancy entered the loft with you, currently slumped against her back. Next door neighbors and friends for as long as could remember, Steve is familiar with your antics and general lack of any self-preservation instinct; you’d somehow been even worse in high school, he shudders at the thought.

But rarely he had never seen you like this. 

All soft, pliable, and blinking owlishly as you raised a hand to wave at them, “Hey guys,” you rasp, clearly haven fallen asleep in the car on the way over. Scattered hellos filled the room and Nance deposited you on the couch with a, “I’ll be back with some water, you have to drink it all.” 

You nodded lazily and sunk into the couch cushions; they moved to accommodate you and Eddie started the movie again. “Ooh, I love this one,” you cooed. Cuddling into Steve’s arm, he smiled slightly listening as you softly hummed. 

Nancy placed a glass of water on the coffee table and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Steve before settling in on the armchair. You continued to chirp occasionally like a contented cat. He glanced up to find Eddie and Robin turned toward you in interest.

With a deep sigh, you murmured, “Now that right there, is a decent fucking man,” as Eddie, played by the late, great Meatloaf, made his grand entrance to serenade Columbia. Then your eyes drowsily closed and you fell into a light sleep against Steve’s arm.

It was clear that you were drunk, blissfully buzzed and tired. He didn’t mind that you’d all but melted into him and the couch, these things happen. With your head resting on his shoulder, Steve caught the palpable scent of bourbon as you dozed off. He continued to watch the movie, aware of Nancy’s gaze on you searching for any clue as to why you’d decided to get rip-roaring drunk like you were still an undergrad who didn’t get raging hangovers.

Nancy, observant to a fault, noticed that you’d fallen asleep on your right side, cheek nuzzled onto Steve’s arm. Your left side was exposed, arm resting on your hip and left hand startling free of an engagement ring. She drew in a short breath, and with a low growl said, “Oh, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You awoke blearily, sun streaming through the windowpane and directly into your eye doing fuck-all for your plan to sleep in. It was cloyingly warm and your neck was starting to hurt, jaw hooked over the world’s most uncomfortable pillow it would seem. You’d have to talk to Nance about her interior design choices.

With a sigh, you rub your cheek against the fabric and blink open your eyes. Planting a hand firmly against the couch, you push yourself up only to hear a pained grunt. You pause and scrub your eyes with the back of your hand, only to find one startled Steve Harrington.

“Whathefuck,” you mumble out, voice gravely and low as you look around the room.

You vision swims and tunnels.

Oh, so you’re definitely hungover. Well, that explains the fact that you’re not waking up in your own apartment. Steve looks down right disturbed to be awoken in such a fashion, sprawled out on the couch in a rucked up shirt and jeans, wedged into an uncomfortable corner shoulder-first.

“You sleep in your jeans Harrington? Weeping christ.”

“Uh,” he stammers out, his voice lower than you’d ever heard, eyes wide and glasses eschew, “D’ya think you could move your hand?”

“Huh?”

You both glance down to find your hand resting against his thigh, not the couch like you’d thought, dangerously close to his crotch and–-uh, morning situation. Eyes nearly popping out of your skull, you abruptly move the offending appendage and clear your throat, heat rising to your face.

So, if the earth could like, cataclysmically end right now, that would be juuust great.

He hurriedly stands up, taking a pillow to cover himself. He runs his free hand through his mess of hair and slowly backs into the hallway, “I-uh-,” he stammers at you, “L-Lemme just get Nance.”

You don’t dare make eye contact. Only once you hear furtive whispers and the opening and closing of a bedroom door, do you breathe in relief. Shaking your head before you can think better of it, you pinch your eyes shut at the rattling pain in your skull. Elbows resting on your knees, you cradle your head and groan into your hands.

“Screaming into the void already?”

Nancy looks unfairly put-together, yoga leggings and an old Emerson college shirt graces her figure as she crosses to the kitchen. You, however, feel freshly regurgitated into existence and in all likelihood look like you’ve lost a fight with a rabid raccoon. Which tracks, depressingly enough.

She starts the coffee maker, shutting the pods into the machine with more force than necessary. “How many shots of espresso?” she chirps grabbing creamer from the fridge, shutting it loudly. 

You shudder at the noise and brace yourself for the clinking of spoons against mugs. “Ugh, twelve, please,” you say despondently and flop back onto the couch, hands covering your eyes. 

From the corner of her eye, Nancy sees you dramatically thrash against the sofa cushions. With a roll of her eyes, she dumps a few espresso ice cubes into a glass and shakes up the oat milk to pour over it. She hadn’t expected Steve to be the one staying up with you last night, you and Eddie had more of an affinity late nights and Rocky Horror. But, he had an early morning with the band and bowed out around midnight or so.

Apparently Steve had elected to babysit you on the couch, long after Rocky Horror had finished. She recalls you bullying him into watching High Fidelity and Empire Records before saying her own goodnights. Robin having trotted off to sleep even earlier. The morning sun basked in through the large interior windows of the living room, an abysmal heat accompanying it, which is apparently what woke you. 

She flicked the switch to the overhead fan and dropped a straw into the atrocious concoction you referred to as “coffee.” The espresso cubes had begun to melt, she’d only thrown in half the amount you’d requested. Swatting you to move aside, she placed the glass in your outstretched hand.

“Bless you Nancy Wheeler,” you intoned as you struggled to sit up. She pulled your arm and set you up against the cushions and pillows. You took a sip, smacking your lips as your thirst was quenched. 

Nancy huffed at your lack of manners. “So,” she sighs, “What happened last night?”

“Question,” you cut in and pause to take another sip. “Is Harrington licensed as an exotic animal handler?”

You’re ridiculous.

And that’s putting it lightly.

“What?”

You tongue the straw as it has seemingly escaped your mouth. Nancy watches as it travels from one side of the glass to the opposite before you give up and shove it into your mouth. She’s positive she’s going to lose it if you don’t get to the point soon, and it’s not even 9 a.m.

“Well, y’have to be licensed to handle exotic animals, like snakes and stuff.”

“Get to the point please,” she snaps.

Your eyes go wide, “Sheesh, okay. Forgot you were such a tightass in the mornings.” You take a painfully long sip, straw gurgling with the scant dregs of coffee that are left. “Stefano,” you continue, much to her exasperation, “I have reason to believe he’s harboring a fugitive.”

Nancy huffs inwardly, she really doesn’t have time for your classic deflections. But hey, whatever she had to do to get to you to spill.

It is at this precise moment that Robin makes her presence known, soft footfalls against the wood floor. She rasps a greeting and busies herself with the coffee grinder as you begin to speak again.

While she grinds the coffee beans, it’s impossible to make out what you’re saying, exaggerated gesticulations and all. The screaming motorized blades shriek their way across the apartment, eliciting a shout from Steve’s running shower, “God, what is that!?”

She hates you right now, well, you and Robin. The two current banes of her existence, one hungover and the other just a regular space-cadet. Rob is slumped over the counter wearing and ancient tank-top and what has to be the brightest pair of neon shorts known to man, Eat Me, emblazoned on the ass. Nancy is pretty sure she’d stolen them from you, actually.

Nancy hasn’t thrown up since Steve’s college graduation party, but this morning she just might out of sheer spite.

“Shut up,” you grouse in response, “Everyone fuck off for like, a second.”

Robin stops the incessant grinding of coffee, quickly followed by Steve stomping into the living room, fresh from the shower and pissed as hell; wet and shirtless, basketball shorts accentuating his slutty little waist. 

Nancy notices how quickly your face colors at his arrival, accompanied by an audible gulp. He snatches a mug from the shelf as Robin works the French press, closing the cabinets after her she chaotically yanks them open. 

She turns her focus back to you, eyes narrowing, “Out with it.”

Slurping loudly from your empty glass of iced coffee you shrug. “Well, you asked for it.” You set the glass down on the coffee table and roll your neck in preparation for whatever it is you’re about to say. 

Nothing good, probably.

“We need to alert animal control for the anaconda in Steve’s shorts,” you say airily, as if you were commenting on the weather.

Ah, so one of you classic deflection tactics it is then. Talk about literally anything else but the problem, bonus points if you can annoy Steve in the process. 

“The fuck!” Steve slams the mug on the counter padding over to the living room. Robin cackles in laughter, nearly spilling the freshly brewed coffee all over herself in the process. The look on his face should be enough to shut you up. Smug as all hell as he crosses his arms, purses his lips, and glances at your red face to Nancy’s blinking one.

“Harrington,” you declare, hoping your confident tone will throw him off, “Unless you can produce a license for your, uh, anaconda,” you pause for a beat, nodding to his crotch. “We don’t want none.”

“Okay, that’s it!”

He all but body slams you against the couch, Nancy barely making it out of there with the drinking glass intact. Your shriek makes him flinch only because of its sheer volume, but he continues his relentless assault nonetheless. The pair of you grapple like children on the sofa, hands scrambling against torsos and arms. The occasional thwack followed by a mocking, “Stop hittin’ yourself, stop hittin’ yourself!”

The two of you never did quite grow out of your competitive wrestling phase, it would seem. WWF was standard viewing between the pair of you growing up, Steve spending more time at your house than his own. Which eventually grew into weekend-long sleepovers in the basement and Eddie attempting to hotbox the supply closet as you all got older and rowdier.

You’ve launched yourself across the couch, impressive in your current hungover state, effectively pinning Steve underneath your legs and laughed maniacally. There’s a beat of silence followed by the unmistakable sound of a loogie being hocked as you attempt to snicker-snag him and dangle it above Steve’s face. He recoils in terror, mouth unfortunately open (despite Robin’s “Christ Steve, close your damn mouth!”) and attempts to squirm out from under you.

“What’s all this then?” Eddie asks as he rolls in from meeting with the band. Not even batting an eye at the tangle of limbs that had by now scrambled to the floor with a thunk. 

“Oh, the usual,” Nancy supplies, rinsing the few dishes in the sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

Robin laughs fondly, “Remember the last time they did this?”

“Mmm, sure do,” Eddie leans against the counter, nodding in thanks when Nancy passes him a cup of coffee. “Fratalina Wine Mixer of 2012.”

“No, it was the All Out 80s party before finals in 2014.”

Nancy sighs in exasperation, “Guys.” Robin and Eddie stop their bickering, looking to her, “It happened at both.”

Steve somehow gains the upper hand in the fall before you can snag him with loogie and an uncomfortably loud slurp echoes through the room. Nancy scrunches her nose in distaste as Robin films the entire tussle on her phone.

Steve throws his weight against you, hands pinning your wrists to the floor. His chest heaves taking deep breaths while he settles against your hips and thighs. “STOP MOVING,” he puffs out. You ignore his rough command and continue to thrash on the floor, face contorting in the effort. “I swear to god, if you don’t–”

Whatever Steve had planned to say next was cut off by your scream. You’d taken a deep breath in preparation and let loose the loudest caterwaul you possibly could. Steve pleads with you to stop and shut up, but you continue to scream unabated. Eddie snickers to himself, “That’s some real final girl shit right there.”

Eventually, Steve has no choice but to cover your mouth with his hand. You bite him in retaliation. “Shit,” he grimaces, retracting his hand and shaking it out, “D’you sharpen your canines or something?!” Before he can remember to secure your arms, you reel up with a grunt and shove Steve to the floor. 

“How the turn tables,” you taunt, reclaiming your previous position sitting on Steve, earning a snort from Eddie and Robin. He attempts to swat you away before you can begin to snicker-snag him again. You laugh and clamp your thighs tighter against his hips, the nylon of the shorts proving to be more slippery than you’d bargained for. 

Steve goes uncomfortably quiet and impossibly pink in the face as you situate yourself. Settling back on your haunches, you appraise him as he tries to look anywhere else; your eyes light up in realization. “Huh,” you grin, hands falling to your hips, “Didn’t know that was your kink, Harrington.” He groans and shoves the palms of his hands into his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the growing semi he was currently sporting. 

Unceremoniously, you slide off of him with a plop and cozy up against the base of the sofa. “Nance,” you grin, finger pointing to Steve’s shorts, “You never told me Harrington was packing.”

Swiftly, and true to character, Nancy levels you with “the look.” The patented dead-eyed Wheeler stare, known by all feared by few. To be fair, it’s only when she breaks out the snarl that you have to worry.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve mutters, eyes shut, “And I hate you.”

Robin wheezes, jostling her phone and panning to Eddie. He smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Hey Siri, play Anaconda.” 

You jump up with more energy than you should have and cackle. Steve remains flat on the floor, much to your chagrin, as you bop along to the song. “This dude named Steven used to ride motorcycles / It's bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's,” you and Eddie sing out, Robin recording all the while.

Sure, you’re grinning and laughing now but it never truly reaches your eyes. Nancy half-heartedly sighs watching you dance around Steve’s prone body on the floor. 

It’s plain as day to her and literally everyone else that there is more than simply friendship between you and Steve. It’s obvious that he’s been smitten for a while now.

Well, obvious to everyone except you. 

For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

A Bunch of Justs

Bit of iso content for myself, and my fellow klaroline fans. As usual, only had my poor, lazy brain proofing it, so hopefully only few mistakes.

xxx

Caroline skipped about her house, happy as a clam, because she had food on the way.

It was such a rare treat she ordered takeout.

Under normal circumstances it wasn’t really in her budget - she allotted that splurge-type money to things like social work drinks, or the occasional lunch with friends.

But these were not normal circumstances.

Not yet anyway, since a bunch of justs had happened in her life.

She had just moved into her very own apartment. No roommates clogging up the sink with their gross hair, no partner complaining about how you drank the last of the milk (even though you’re really the only one who uses the milk, except on the very very odd occasion they want a dash of milk to make scrambled eggs, because ‘duh Caroline it’s egg day?’).

She had just started a new job, which gave her the option to work fully from home. And, as a writer with the option of always working from home, as you would imagine, Caroline was working from home. 

She had just moved to a new city. She felt like a change from the semi-boring nature of life in Richmond, Virginia, and decided Chicago would be a nice change. If she was working from home, why not have home in a different place

And finally, she had just been hit with her first Chicago snow storm. For the better part of a week now, Caroline was snowed in – the advice from the authorities being stay home, only go out if absolutely necessary, and if you do go out, for the love of god, no driving. 

Needless to stay, between freshly living alone, working from home, in a new city, and the snow, Caroline hadn’t seen anyone but the clerk at the supermarket down the street in nearly four weeks, and it was driving her barmy.

Thus, on the fateful Sunday night, just as the roads were getting mildly safer, Caroline decided to treat herself takeout delivered straight to her door, from her favourite eatery in all of Chicago.

How, you may wonder, can one have a favourite food place if they are so new to a city?

Now, that question, had Caroline asked herself, would have changed to course of the evening entirely.

But alas, or perhaps a-luck as the case may be, Caroline did not ask herself that question, opting instead to beam at her reflection, because social interaction was also on the menu that evening.

Yoga pants took place of ratty pyjama bottoms, her hair restored to its shining glory. Even the somewhat-stained, oversized sweatshirt, she couldn’t quite remember when she first started wearing, was replaced by a squeaky-clean, oversized sweatshirt.

She couldn’t help but feel more alive than she had in days and days.

Caroline certainly took this furore about seeing one person for the fleeting moment of delivery as a signal to actually get stuck into her social life in Chicago, lest she lose her sense of self completely.

She whizzed round her house, scooping up every little bit of solitude-sadness mess that had accumulated, and whisked them back to their homes. She was having visitors after all!!

Just as the vacuum made an appearance, the doorbell rang, and like a bullet, Caroline shot to the door.

With her widest smile stretching her face, Caroline swung open the door to reveal…

“Hello, love.”

Oh my.

“Fancy seeing you here on this fine night.”

See, this was the first time Caroline properly considered her history with the eatery she so eagerly ordered from.

“Klaus!”

“Yes, well spotted.”

See, Caroline had briefly resided in Chicago once before. One winter, about three years earlier, she was bored and freelancing, so decided to live on the couch of her high school best friend for a few months.

Stefan worked at the eatery then, working himself through law school.

Caroline, who would otherwise have found a hipster looking bar to freelance from, made herself a comfortable regular at the café, and promptly became one of the favourites of a bartender.

Klaus.

Oh, Klaus.

Caroline had lost a lot of sleep over Klaus. She had lost a lot of sleep while with Klaus too, for that matter.

He was wildly irritating, and incredibly infuriating. But was also whip smart, hilarious, and charming.

Caroline was pretty sure those short months found her falling in love with him.

But, even though they shared so much, so intensely, they were never more than a thing.

Not a fling, not a relationship – just a thing. A thing that held only memories. A thing that made no pledges or promises to the future, nor even any resolutions of contact.

Maybe he was the one that got away. Or maybe the one she let get away.

“Klaus,” she said again, the meaning layered beneath the word not lost on either of them. “You look good.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a calculating quirk of the lip, nor an infuriating smirk. It was just a warm, genuine smile.

“Since when do you do delivery?” Caroline asked, pivoting away from the mood that had become just too much.

“Lots can change in three years, love,” Klaus replied. “But how could I resist this delivery? Cheesy mushroom fries, add bacon; the comfort pasta with no chicken, add extra bacon; and a slice of sticky date pudding? Such an intriguing order...”

“Hey!” Caroline said, indignantly swatting at him. “Don’t judge my order!”

“No judgement,” he said, with just a hint of insecurity. “Perhaps intriguing isn’t the right word. Perhaps it is familiar I’m looking for.”

“You remembered my order?”

“How could I not, love? You ate it in front of me three or more times a week for months!”

“Aww, you remembered my order.”

On the threshold of opportunity, the former lovers stood, just waiting for the other to reach out a hand to jump with.

“Would you like to join me?” Caroline whispered, the invitation laced with promise.

“I would love to.”

xxx

I ordered dinner to be delivered to my house last night, and realised about 15 minutes later that an ex of mine works at the place. And I imagined a scenario where they showed up on my doorstep. I wouldn’t have invited them in given that I AM BEING A GOOD SELF-ISO LADY, but I wondered what our two faves would do in a similar sitch. Although, Caroline was not trapped inside because of this blasted virus - I would never do that to our sweet angel.

Also, would love your iso-prompts. I have lots of time, and want lots more distraction.

[wintrcaptn]

All For Show | Steve Rogers

Summary : Your sister is throwing a couples party and you ask your best friend, Steve to be your fake boyfriend. But things heat up, will it change everything?

A/N : This is from my old blog, @sincerelysaraahh I am going to change it up as I go along, but this first part will be exactly the same! Hope you enjoy! And if you would like to be tagged, send me an ask! 

Three knocks, that’s all it took before Steve opened the door. He stood there, wearing a tank top and sweats, and his hair damped from sweat, which only meant he just came back from the gym.

“Hey, didn’t expect you here today.” He smiled, waving you in.

“I know, but I needed to talk to you.”

You walked in to his apartment, and plopped down onto his couch. His place was like your second home. You were always there, and if you weren’t, then you two were at your place.

“Beer?” He asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Nah, just water.”

Steve tossed you a water bottle, as he started back toward the living room where you waited.

You took a big swig of the water and felt the cold liquid trickle down your throat. Making you feel somewhat at ease.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall across from you.

For some reason you were feeling nervous. Which was strange. Steve was your best friend. You two were so close, you were able to talk to him about anything. He’s seen you in sweats with no makeup on. He’s helped you when you were a drunken mess. And yet, you were somehow nervous about this topic.

“Y/N.” he snapped his fingers, catching your attention. “You okay?”

You slowly nodded, running your hand through your hair. Something you did when you were nervous.

“So my sister is throwing a couples party tomorrow night, and when I RSVP’d a month ago, I was dating Jared-”

“The asshole.” He cut you off.

“Woah, language.” You teased.

He dramatically rolled his eyes and huffed. “Anyways, go on.”

“As I was saying, I told her I’d go and now she’s expecting me to be there.”

“So?” He drawled out.

You swallowed hard, meeting your best friends gaze.

“I was wondering if you can go as my fake boyfriend.” You slightly winced as the words finally fell from your lips.

Steve stayed quiet for a moment. Looking at every feature of your face, searching for any sign of bluff.

Though this wouldn’t be the first time you two pretended to be together. But it usually followed with a fake fight after catching each other with a one night stand neither of you cared to last.

It was sort of like a game. You’d text him ‘BF’ and he knew exactly what to do.

You would both laugh about it for hours after the strangers left, and even made fun of each other for what would be said between you two in the “fake” fight.

But to do this for the whole night, and involving family and friends. That was a completely different story.

“Please do me this one solid.” You said. “Seriously, I’ll do anything. I’ll even give you Riley’s number from work.”

Suddenly he was interested. With the name rolling off your tongue, he started to feel himself lean toward yes.

“Riley, the girl you forbid me to even talk to?” He smirked.

You let out a sigh, and nodded. “Yep. And all you have to do is pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Steve crossed an arm over his chest and rested his other hand under his chin. He contemplated to himself for a minute. Going over the pros and cons.

“Steve!” You yelled. “Please!”

He let out a chuckle, giving in. “Okay! Okay!” He surrendered. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

“God, thank you!” You felt relieved.

“No problem, Doll.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

You rolled your eyes and started for the door.

“Let’s not get too cocky okay?” You chuckled. “I’ll come by at six tomorrow and we can take a cab to the restaurant.”

Steve nodded, walking behind you. “Is it formal or casual?”

“Formal.” You groaned. Any party you had to get super dressed up for, was a party you dreaded.

“Okay, well, I will see you tomorrow then.”

Before exiting the apartment, you turned on your heels and met his gaze. “Don’t forget, okay? Tomorrow at six.”

“I know mom. Don’t worry.” He teased.

—-

The door swung open and immediately Steve was mesmerized. His eyes glanced up and down your body, as a smile crept up on his lips.

“Wow.” He exhaled. “You look-”

“Ridiculous, I know.” You cut him off.

“I was going to say beautiful.” He said, with a little shake to his head. “I’m used to seeing you in yoga pants. Not that it’s a bad thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked at your phone for the time.

“Alright, we should leave now. The party is downtown and it’s pretty crazy packed on the streets right now.”

Steve nodded, as he slipped his watch on and closed the door behind him.

“Shall we, babe?” He winked.

You looped your arm with his, chuckling to yourself as you played along.

“Of course honey.”

The two of you went back and forth, giggling at the stupid pet names you came up for each other, though most of them were never to be used again.

It took a while for the taxi, but it was okay. Because you had Steve with you to keep you occupied.

“So how long have we been dating?” He asked, sliding into the cab beside you.

“Mm I was thinking six months?”

Steve shook his head, “let’s make it a year. And be one of those obnoxious couples that make people sick but low key wish they were us.” He chuckled.

You belted out into laughter, agreeing with him. “Yes! Let’s do it! My sister would shut her pants!”

“Don’t bring boys home that often huh?” He teased.

“Nope. My family thinks I have commitment issues. Can’t stay with anyone longer than six months.” You shrugged. “So, if we say a year, they probably would have a heart attack.”

“Damn, then I should of went all out and bought a ring.” He cackled.

Your stomach hurt so much from laughing, it was beginning to ache. But it was a good pain. Something you haven’t felt in a while.

“Alright, lets not get too carried away now. We need to make it believable.��� You giggled.

As the ride to the restaurant continued, you were able to go over an entire fake story with Steve.

How you met. Where he took you on your first date. The first kiss. Etc.,

It was kind of perfect. Something you read in books. But somehow, you were able to picture it all with him. And for that, you felt a bit off.

—-

Before going into the restaurant, you turned to Steve. Your stomach was in knots and suddenly you were nervous again.

“Maybe we should forget this and just go back home.” You exhaled.

Steve scrunched his brows together, shaking his head. “What? No. come on Y/N, we are dressed up, we came up with a great story, it’s going to be okay.”

You were feeling as though you couldn’t breathe. Taking in deep breaths and letting it out slowly.

He scooped your chin and slightly lifted, forcing you look right at him. His lips curved at the edges giving you a sense of ease.

“I’m here. Okay? Everything is going to be just fine.” He whispered. “I promise.”

And just like that, you felt your anxiety somewhat fade. And somehow, you believed him.

“Thank you.” You exhaled.

Steve flashed a cheeky grin, “ready?” Displaying his hand out to you.

Slipping your hand into his, you nodded. “Ready.”

The two of you made your way into the restaurant. Your fingers intertwined with each other, looking like the couple you had planned.

“Y/N!” Your sister called out, waving at you.

You spotted her quickly, and started toward the back.

“Hey!” You smiled, pulling her in for a quick hug.

“I’m so glad you made it.” She exclaimed. “I was sure you wouldn’t come since you usually don’t have a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.”

You shrugged your shoulders, forcing yourself not to say anything mean.

“This is my boyfriend, Steve.” You stated. “Steve, this is my sister, Y/S/N.”

They shook hands, and said their hellos. Your sister was in awe with his looks. She couldn’t help but stare.

Steve cleared his throat, catching both yours and your sisters attention.

“I’m going to get a beer, want anything babe?” He asked.

“I’ll just have a vodka martini.” You smiled.

Steve nodded, and pressed a quick peck to your cheek, before escaping to the bar. Leaving you alone with your sister.

“Holy shit balls, your boyfriend is hot!” She exclaimed. “I mean, that body and that smile and don’t get me started on that butt!”

“Okay!” You chuckled. “I get it.”

“What? How can you be with someone that gorgeous and not want to jump his bones all the time?” She went on.

You looked back at Steve, who leaned on the bar. Probably waiting to order the drinks.

Your sister was right though, Steve was pretty hot. Which you knew before, but this time was different. Somehow, looking at him now, you felt a warm sensation pool in the pit of your stomach.

“When you’re done with him, you should send him my way!” Your sister cackled, snapping you back to reality.

Scrunching your brows, you shot her a glance. “Aren’t you engaged to tony?” You asked. “I don’t think he’ll like that very much! Besides, whose to say we will break up?”

“Dude, your longest relationship was six months. That’s it. You aren’t a relationship type of girl.” She said. “How long have you two been together anyways?”

A smile formed on your lips. “A year.”

Her eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of the socket. Which oddly enough, was the reaction you wanted.

“Bull shit.” She whispered.

You went back and forth with your sister. Explaining the story to her, which she bought. It was so convincing, that you were beginning to believe it was real yourself.

Steve waited for the drinks to be made. His gaze glanced around the restaurant, until they landed on you.

The way your red dress hugged your curves so perfectly, made it impossible for him to not be mesmerized.

“Here you go.” The bartender smiled, deliberately flirting with him.

“Thanks.” Steve grabbed the two glasses and as he was about to return to your side, the bartender reached for him forearm, catching his attention.

“Maybe after my shift we can get to know each other.” She winked.

Usually Steve would oblige. He loved hooking up with pretty blondes. Especially if he didn’t need to remember their names.

But he looked at you and suddenly he didn’t want to let you down.

“Actually, I can’t.” He said, giving her a soft smirk. “I have to get back to my girlfriend.”

Without another word, Steve made his way back over to you.

“Oh hey stranger.” You chuckled, taking the drink from his hand.

“Sorry, the line was pretty chaotic back there.”

Steve pressed his hand against your back, and gently pulled you closer to him. He was definitely playing the part perfectly.

—-

An hour had come and gone. Both you and Steve mingled with some of your friends you hadn’t seen in years.

The dinner was pretty amazing as well. Not once did you drop anything on yourself.

Your sister enjoyed Steve’s company. She talked to him more than she talked to you. Asked him questions about his life, about work, and hobbies. She even asked him about you.

“So, how did you manage to get my sister to agree to go out with you?” She asked, taking a sip of her cosmo.

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “I honestly think it has to do with us being close friends before we started dating.”

“Y/N can be a pain in the ass though. And extremely stubborn! I remember when we were little, she always told my parents and I that’d she never want kids and never want to get married.” Your sister chuckled. “She was anti love. For almost all her life.”

Steve glanced back at you, and even though you were in the middle of belting out into laughter, he was still in awe.

“Don’t take it personal if she ends up pushing you away soon.” Your sister muttered. “She tends to ruin all good things that happen to her.”

“Well, no offense to you but I have a feeling things are different this time.” He said with a serious tone. “Excuse me.”

With that, he turned on his heels and made his way to you. Adrenaline pulses through his veins and something inside him sparked.

The moment he stood in front of you, he cupped your cheeks and instantly pressed his lips to yours.

Chills covered you from head to toe. And your breath shook in the back of your throat.

You were taken aback. But as confused as you were, you motioned back, pulling him in closer.

His lips were soft and warm, and tasted of the beer he sipped on just before. The way his tongue grazed against yours, forced your legs to shake. You couldn’t believe the power the kiss had over you.

Sure you’ve kissed people before, but never had it left you feeling the way you did right now.

Steve pressed his forehead against yours, giving you both a chance to breathe.

“Sorry, just had to prove a point to your sister.” He whispered.

And suddenly you were brought back to reality.

That’s it. It was all just for show. Of course it was. Why else would he have kissed you?

Your stomach felt like it dropped, as you took a step back from him and forced a smile. Though, you were fighting back the tears.

“I need some water.” You said. “I’ll be back.”

Not giving him a chance to react, you started toward the bar. Biting the inside of your cheeks as you tried to keep the tears from strolling down. You didn’t want anyone especially your sister to see you upset.

This feeling you had was so confusing. Why did it matter so much to you if it were real or not? You knew damn well he was there just to pretend. None of it was real.

You shot a glance back at Steve, who had his eyes on you already. Your breath hitched and you quickly looked away.

Your heart was pounding profusely, which made no sense.

But after a few minutes of thinking, it finally hit you.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath.

Part Two

[fourhundredwordblog]

Threatening

I just escaped a bourgie trap, one of those adorable-looking cafes that slyly masks its toxic atmosphere until I suddenly realize I do not belong. Like just now, I sat down with my coffee and noticed I was completely surrounded by professional-managerial class white women — some in business attire, some in yoga pants. I gathered from their conversations that most worked at Wake Forest University. The lady to my right complained to her life coach about a kindergarten teacher who’d said her child was doing “great” even though her report card indicated a thoroughly average performance. Her child couldn’t be average. The teacher must have erred. “Obviously she isn’t really assessing her.” Big sigh. “But what can I say - free childcare, right?”

In these social environments I often look to the workers with a sense of curiosity and compassion, but even they felt alien to me. The loud, young, fashionable barista held court among her finely dressed coworkers, saying things like, “Remember when we flew from Madrid to Florence and all those airport people were on strike and we were like ‘Oh my god, this is CRAZY!’?” For her, this customer service stint was just a side trip along a journey to upper-class comfort, not a permanent destination. In ten years, she’ll be on the other side of the counter, bitching to her life coach about her kid’s teacher.

I admit the coffee tasted great, and I adored the quaint, historic setting. But I will never, ever return to that cafe because it’s the exact sort of Winston-Salem environment I find threatening.

I’ve lived in a few rapidly gentrifying towns and generally find these sorta hip establishments extremely unpleasant. Unless you’re a yuppie, the bourgie fruits that come with “revitalization” exhaust way more of your cash and dignity than they’re worth. My favorite haunts are the Greek-owned diners, the fried chicken lunch counter down the street from work, and the taproom where bartenders wear handmade t-shirts that say “Dash Trash” (their way of reclaiming WFU students’ classist epithet for townie workers). I don’t feel underdressed in these places, I can get a quality gyro, potpie, or beer for $5-$6, and I’ll probably never have to overhear a life coach meeting. 

I dig this town and hope to stay a while. But I’m very clear on what I enjoy vs. what I find repugnant.

- byTara

[talldrink-o-h2o]

Lifestyle: Review of La Marca Prosecco

When I first started drinking wine, I was strictly a white wine girl. I loved the Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio that my favorite local restaurant, Olive Garden, served. It paired nicely with my standard order of fettucine alfredo. You may think I am joking, but I am being completely serious. I loved the OG (as we called it) so much so that Pam and I would go almost weekly in college, once even waiting in the parking lot until it opened. It was 10:30AM.

Over the course of my senior year, I really started to dabble in wine. The local wine bar, Beggar’s Banquet, had Wine Wednesdays, which meant half-off bottles of wine, aka the only way I could afford their $25 bottles of wine. Pam and I frequented there even more so than the OG that we became friends with the bartender, Gabe, and then those half-off bottles of wine became free bottles of wine.

Around this time, I had a friend much older than me, she was probably 25 to my 21. She lived alone, had a lease on a brand-new car, and knew how to cook. I had never met anyone so sophisticated. Through her, I was introduced to asparagus – still my favorite vegetable – and Traverse City wines. She was from the northern Michigan tourist town that has vineyards along two separate peninsulas. (It really is beautiful; you should visit if you find yourself in Michigan). On random weekends, we would visit her childhood home and taste wines along Old Mission Peninsula and finish with dinner with her father. It is how I graduated to my next favorite wine: Chateau Grand Traverse’s Ship of Fools.

I was so fascinated by wine, albeit not necessarily the best wine, that my college boyfriend bought me several books on the topic to further my education. He also bought me an actual pearl necklace as a gift; he told me his mom and he decided it was the most fitting gift for me, so that should give you an idea as to how I acted at 21.

I should also note that this is indicative of me, twofold. One, I am easily influenced by people I hold in high esteem. Someone I view as sophisticated I am going to want to emulate. Two, when I get into something, I go all in. How else do you explain my becoming a yoga instructor when I had a full-time job and was commuting to Canada four days a week?

Post-college, I was only slightly less broke than I was in undergrad and still acting like I had never left university. My drinking did not improve.

I remember meeting a woman a year older than me at work who lived down the hall from me in a slightly bigger apartment. She talked about wearing a DVF dress to a major presentation – I had to google DVF later and then spent an inordinate amount of time trying to decide whether I should spend $348 on a wrap dress and whether I was the kind of person who wore wrap dresses (the girl who gets gifted pearl necklaces is the girl who will wear a DVF wrap dress, that is for sure). She told me this story in her apartment, a unit in which she sanded down literally every piece of wood and painted them white. The resulting effect was beautiful, but all I could think about was how much they would charge her when she left for damaging the property. She certainly would not be getting her deposit back. And this woman, for all her elevated sensibilities, still drank like a twenty-something, shooting Bacardi and drinking out of long-neck beers.

It was not until I made the move to Target that things for me changed. It helped that my salary had significantly increased, no longer living paycheck to paycheck, and I had stopped hanging around most of the people I started at General Mills with. I remember telling a General Mills coworker I was excited about Target because of the shoes I could buy that I knew would be appreciated at a company like Target. I had dreamt of buying Stuart Weitzmans and could not wait to put my new, larger paycheck to good use.

At Target, I met a different kind of person. Sure, there were the people my age and younger who still acted/dressed/drank like they were 21. But then there were the people I started to associate with. People older than me, who had traveled the world, lived outside of Minnesota, who appreciated the finer things in life.

One woman had worked for P&G and traveled all over the globe with her job. She traveled so much that she reached Delta’s Diamond status. She would use her annual gift to get a Tiffany’s gift card. She took me to Tiffany’s one Sunday afternoon. She had lost an earring that she always slept in. She went to Tiffany’s in track pants and had the audacity to buy just one single earring, rather than the set. They did not bat an eye, at her outfit or the request, and were happy to oblige. I truly had never known someone so sophisticated. All the gifts for my bridal party two years later were from Tiffany’s. She also had the most gorgeous, rented condo, outfitted exclusively in Restoration Hardware and Pottery Barn. I went and got a custom couch from Pottery Barn after seeing her place. The bar was stacked with bottles of wine that she did not pick out because she thought the label was pretty.

Her tenure at Target was short-lived. Turned out, she was unable to sell her home back in Cincinnati and it was too old for Target’s relocation program to buy her out. She was paying her mortgage and her two-bedroom condo in Minneapolis’ North Loop neighborhood. She was literally spending more than she was taking in, something she lamented to me over a $14 lunch one day, and she blamed Target for it all. Even though I could see how dumb her spending habits were, I still had to commend her for not sacrificing her taste for something as silly as savings.

Then, my current boss started at Target. I knew I would like her when, one Friday, she invited a co-worker and me to a Nordstrom lunch. I did not know what that meant, but I liked both words separately, so combined, figured it could only get better. It started at Nordstrom, where I bought a pair of Vince heels while she got some Stuart Weitzmans. Then we had lunch in the broader mall, where she ordered us a bottle of champagne, and not just any champagne, Veuve yellow label.

This would be the start of many traditions. We always manage to shop on work trips, choosing favorite spots in each city – Nordstrom in Chicago, Barneys (RIP) in New York, Saks in San Francisco. What started as Stuart Weitzman graduated to Prada, Gucci, and Valentino. We find excuses to get a glass of wine, but even that has elevated. No more yellow-label Veuve, only pink. A bottle of wine under $100 is considered a “weekday wine.” Through her I learned what it was that I liked – a full bodied cabernet sauvignon – and not just what others I admired liked.

Then I found myself in Las Vegas before the world shut down on a girls’ weekend with Pam. She and I had no plans, which is both the best way to experience Las Vegas, and the worst. On our last full day there, we had a boozy brunch that led to random shopping – did I need a Herve Leger dress? – day gambling, and more shopping.

The Dior store had special-ordered me a bracelet that came in that day. We first stopped at Gucci where Pam got a purse and we both bought jewelry. Then we camped out in Dior, where they fed us champagne and we bought a myriad of things we did not need.

Then we headed back to our hotel. We did not have much time before we needed to get to the Jerry Seinfeld show, which was our own plan for the day, but we also realized we had not eaten since our brunch hours before. We stopped in at a pub in the hotel and ordered random appetizers. I looked over the drink menu, wanting another glass of champagne, but the only thing by the glass was La Marca.

I looked at the bartender and said the most sober thought I had all day, “I can’t drink La Marca,” I told him. “I showered today.”

And that is when I realized that not only had my tastes changed, but, also, that I had become an asshole.

[missmargaritaschuyler]

You Must Be Kidding~ (Anthony Ramos x Random OC)

•I fucking love Anthony Ramos, this is my third one-shot of him in the span of three days.                                                                                                                •So this a modern day setting (obviously because it's Anthony Ramos and not one of his characters)                                                                                           •Still working on my writing!                                                                                             >Words< 2,096          >Warnings< about two curse words

 ------ 

Natalia sat at the kitchen island on her phone, stirring a glass of chocolate milk with a spoon. She wasn't really into coffee or tea, but chocolate milk was a better option for her. 

Natalia was a very simple girl, she loved wearing sweatpants and yoga pants rather than skirts and jeans. T-shirts and oversized sweaters over blouses. Small plain apartments wins against giant complex houses. She knew what she liked and how she liked it. She absolutely hated when something came and changed abruptly. 

The door opened and slammed shut in the entrance of her apartment. She jumped and almost dropped her phone. She hopped off of the stool and looked through the archway that leads to the entrance. 

Anthony, her boyfriend of two years, stood there taking his jacket off and basically throwing it on the hanger. He was definitely angry. "Anthony?" She called quietly, he looked up at her with a surprised expression. "Oh hi, didn't think you'd be home yet." He said with a slight grunt in his voice. She walked up to him, "What happened?" She held his hand in both of hers. He fake laughed, "Nothing, nothing." She didn't buy the façade that he put up. 

 ><>< 

A few hours later, she prepared dinner for the both of them later that evening. She made a homemade tomato sauce and spaghetti, and she was very proud of her work. 

She placed the two plates at the small table between the kitchen and living room. Anthony sat there with his head resting on his arm. He looked to be in deep thought. When she placed the plate in front of him he quickly snapped out of it and quickly 'thanked' her. She sat in the seat across from his and stared at Anthony. He played with his food rather than ate it, and was in that deep trance again. 

She had had enough of this game. "Okay, what happened today?" She sternly questioned. She crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair. He put his fork down and looked at his hands that were now in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "Nothi-" "Anthony." He looked up at her with a guilty look. She greeted him with an annoyed face. He sighed. "Just something at work." 

"Then tell me what happened at work." "It's not that simple." He mumbled. "Why's that?" She sassed back. He groaned, "I don't know, just leave it." She rolled her eyes as she ate her food in silence. She watched as he got up from his seat to get a glass of water. He looked stressed. His hand combed through his hair and his foot tapped on the group as the water filled up his cup. 

She looked at her now empty plate as she tried to think of what could possibly be going on with him. He sat down again sipping from his cup ever so slightly not really want to disturb the silence around them. "Why won't you tell me?" She asked quietly. He put down his glass and rubbed his forehead. "It's not important." She glared up at him. "It must be important or else you would've told me already." She stood up and put her plate in the sink. She turned back towards him who once again was drinking his water trying to avoid the conversation. "If you're keeping something important from me I would like to know." He set the glass down and turned to her in his chair. 

"Okay fine, they want me to move across the country to work at the new updated version of my workplace." She stared at him in shock, "Across the country?" She whispered to herself, "What did you say to them?" He shrugged, "That I would think about it." 

She looked at him in horror, "You're actually thinking about it?" He stared up at her with a confused expression. "Well yeah I mean I can't really just not think about it- the future of my job is at risk." "What if you say no?" She asked slowly. "Then I lose my job." She bit her lip. "What are you going to say then?" 

"I guess I'll just have to accept it." He stood up with his empty plate to put it in the sink. "What?! You're just going to move across the country for a stupid job?" He almost dropped the plate on the ground. "I waited years for a job like this, and I'm not just going to throw all the work I've done by refusing this opportunity." His voice was louder. "And what about me then?" She crossed her arms. "I was hoping you would come with me." Her jaw dropped. "You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm living across the country. My entire family is here, I'm not leaving." "Does that mean that I'll just go there by myself?" 

She softened her gaze and looked up at him, "Just stay here, get a new job." He rolled his eyes, "I already have a job that I love and I'm not leaving it." She stepped back, "Would you rather go across the country for your job, or stay here with me?" She questioned him with a raised eyebrow. He didn't say anything, confirming his answer. 

She glared at him and spat, "You must be kidding." He glared at her, "If you're not supportive of me becoming successful, then I guess I'll just go there by myself without you." His voice rose again, "If you go there by yourself, then what's the point of dating without seeing each other?" She queried, he slowly answered. 

 "I guess there is none." 

Her heart broke and she did something before she really thought about it... She slapped him, hard. "So all of this was just a waste of time? Well then just get a head start on moving across the fucking country and pack your bags." She yelled. 

She ran into the guest bedroom and locked the door behind her. She sat on the bed and silently sobbed. She just wanted him with her, here in their home together. 

She heard him stomping into their bedroom and gathering his things. Five minutes later he walked out of the room and out the door, she knew because of the slamming that echoed in the hall. She wiped her eyes and slowly opened the door and walked into the main part of the apartment. She made sure that he actually left and not pretend to leave. 

She walked into their, or might as well be, her bedroom. The dresser was basically trashed, the draws left half open with clothes sticking out of them. His small trinkets were left on his bedside table, except for a picture of the two of them. That was missing. She was tired of the fighting. She knew that when she woke up he'd probably wouldn't be next to her like many fights before. She changed into her sleep clothes and laid on the bed. She shut her eyes and the memories came back to her. 

Tears flooded from her eyes and she couldn't stop. 

She knew that she was probably wrong, and that she should've been more supportive, but she loved staying where she was. As she cried herself to sleep, she slowly moved to his side of the bed and slept like a baby in a fetal position. 

><>< 

12:30 A.M., it has been three hours since the two fought, and Anthony was in a bar drinking his sorrows away. I mean technically he had two beers, but he looked very upset. He didn't know what to do. He face still stung from that slap she gave him. He didn't want to leave her, but he also didn't want to be fired. He laid his head on the bar in front of him. 

He looked at the clock on the wall. 12:34 A.M., it took him three hours and 4 minutes to crack. He dated Natalia before he had that job- that means she more important than the job. She helped him get that job, she can do it again. He loves her more than any job that he can have. 

He sat up, paid the bartender and walked out of the bar. Holding his jacket closer to his body to protect himself from the winter weather, he drove his car back to his apartment, no their apartment, and slowly walked to the elevator. 

The thing that made him most nervous about going back was that that she could still be mad at him. He didn't want a matching slap mark on the other side of his face. He stepped into the elevator and slowly went up to his floor. 

He stepped out of it and found his apartment number in the hallway of doors. His heart was beating in his ears. 

He found his door and opened it with his keys. He stepped into the pitch black apartment and flipped on the light switch. He shut the door behind him lightly making sure that he wouldn't wake her up if she was sleeping. He set his stuff down on the coffee table and walked into the guest room where she locked herself in before when they were fighting. 

She wasn't there, he stepped out and saw that in fact she was in their room, sleeping on his side of the bed. He practically melted, he just wanted to lay down next to her and hold her. However that wasn't a good idea, he still wasn't sure if she was still mad at him.

He walked out of the room and went to the closet in the hall. He grabbed a spare blanket, and dragged it to the guest room.

He tiredly took his shirt and shoes off and laid on the bed. He placed the blanket over himself and tried to sleep. However, he knew it would be hard to because of the situation that just happened hours ago running in his mind.

He just hoped that everything would be okay again in the morning.

><><

Natalia woke up to heavy snow outside her window. She got up from her bed and walked to the dresser that was still a mess. She fished out a sweatshirt from one of the drawers. It just happened to one of Anthony’s, she inwardly sighed and pulled it over her head.

As she walked out of the bedroom, she noticed something on the coffee table. She put her arms around herself, the sweatshirt not really providing enough heat against the freezing apartment, and searched the bag on the table.

As she thought, it was filled with Anthony’s things. That must mean he's in the apartment. She turned around and saw that the guest room door was opened. She slowly walked to the doorway, and looked inside.

Anthony laid in the bed with a fleece blanket covering him. She had a small sad smile on her face. She walked in and sat on the bed next to him. She brushed his hair with her fingers, in turn he leaned into her hand. His eyes fluttered open.

Anthony sat up to her level. The two sat in silence, until she jumped on top of him. “I’m sorry for being selfish, I should’ve put your feelings in front of mine.” Natalia mumbled into his shoulder. She sat up again, and put her hand on his cheek. “I’m also sorry for slapping you.” He chuckled at her, “I deserved it, I’m sorry for putting my job in front of you. You’re my top priority.”

She looked at him with wide eyes, “If you still want to accept that job opportunity, I-I won’t stop you.” she told him truthfully, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and brought her down to lay next to him. “Nah- I would miss being in the city when it snowed, and being in this apartment, and especially being by your side.” She laid her head on his chest, “Are you positive- I don’t want to make you get fired.” He shrugged, “It’ll be worth it in the end.”

“I love you.” She whispered as she cuddled into his side, he reciprocated by bringing both of his arms around her and pulling her closer to him. 

“I love you, more.”

[psychotherapyconsultants]

How Therapists Can Become Seat-of-the-Pants Counselors

I have been a therapist for four decades, working in a variety of settings, serving children and adults, individuals, couples, families and groups. My rolodex brain is filled to overflowing with ideas and interventions. Sometimes when I teach Continuing Education Classes for social workers, I am asked to offer more theory. Although I also have that stored in my cranium, I remind them that they can get theory from books. From me they get hands-on practical skills to incorporate into their practice and their own lives. My take on it is that the more capable we are at exploring our own shadows and strengths, the more adept we will be as guides for our clients.

Therapists are “privileged listeners” — like hairdressers, clergy, bartenders and cab drivers. Clients rely on us to create a safe space for their emotional expression, and to keep those expressions confidential. It’s an honor and a sacred trust. 

Recently, as I have been working with several clients who have symptoms of OCD, I am challenged to come up with strategies to help them circumnavigate the inexorable pull of the obsessive behaviors. Many of them have shared that they compare themselves to others, that they feel they are woefully lacking in some ability or quality, that they will never be enough. As a writer, metaphors are my mainstay.

Today, when working with a tween client, we were taking a look at his most recent symptoms related to body image. What came to me as he was comparing himself to an idealized version of what he though he was supposed to look like, was the Goldilocks and the Three Bears concept. The mama bear and papa bear’s chairs and beds were either too soft or too hard, but the baby bear’s were “just right.” His ursine parents’ porridge was either too hot or too cold, but his was “just right.” I then whipped out a piece of paper and wrote those two words on it and asked him to have it handy in case he forgot.

We then did what I call The Body Love Dance that I learned when becoming a Laughter Yoga Leader. It begins with the participants standing and engaging in a call and response series of affirmations about various body parts. “I love my hair. I really, really love my hair. Thank you, hair,” and so on down to toes and everything in between. Silly? Yes. Fun? Absolutely. Effective in helping people overcome body shaming and comparison? You bet.

My client agreed to do it with his family. He didn’t think he was too cool to do it in my office, so he thought it would be even easier at home. When he was distracted by his obsessive thoughts, he agreed to add that song into his repertoire of skills.

Another client is plagued by sometimes overwhelming anxiety and feels a need to run away mentally from the fear thoughts. He is a master at the “what if?” game. A few days ago, I heard something on NPR (National Public Radio) about the various types of road races. I think the interview subject was a long-distance runner. One of the races had zombies chasing the runners to encourage them to run faster. I suggested that he think of the anxiety as hungry zombies determined to eat his brain. He laughed as I did my outstretched arms, moaning imitation. So, we figured out that if he could chop them up into tiny pieces, then they couldn’t harm him. He also referenced a scene from a Harry Potter movie/book in which sea zombies pulled people under water. In this case, he mentioned something about using fire-making spells to protect him from succumbing. He agreed to incorporate them into his practice.

Sometimes it involves tapping into their spirituality, so they can incorporate it as a therapeutic tool. Even clients who say they don’t have religious beliefs, or a spiritual practice generally have something that binds them to the transcendent. This connection might come through time in nature, a creative outlet or a relationship with a loved one.

A client in addiction recovery who spends time “in the rooms” is likely to be immersed in spiritual lingo. They might hear “let go and let God,” the word “God” spelled out as “Good Orderly Direction,” and the mainstay Serenity Prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Several years ago, while I was working in an outpatient drug and alcohol rehab clinic. I’d gone in on a Saturday to catch up on some paperwork. A young man appeared at my office door looking for a Narcotics Anonymous meeting that normally was held at that time.

He’d been clean of heroin for about a month and had promised his rehab counselor he’d go to 90 meetings in 90 days. Visiting the area for a family gathering, he’d looked online for the closest meeting, and our address showed up. The meeting had been canceled, and the website hadn’t been updated. I checked online and didn’t find another meeting in the area.

He asked if we could have our own meeting, referring to Matthew 18:20: “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” I gladly agreed. We recited the Serenity Prayer. He read the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions complements of Alcoholics Anonymous, then he shared his story. We talked about music (he was wearing a Jimi Hendrix shirt) and family (his wife was one of his biggest supporters).

Before he left, he asked if I’d write in his notebook that he’d attended a meeting, and I was pleased to do so. We acknowledged that a “miracle moment” had taken place: He’d shown up where we both needed him to be.

Although appropriate boundaries are essential in therapeutic relationships, therapists should remember that we have many of the same deep questions that our clients do. When we connect with them as one human being seeking another, that’s when therapy becomes sacred between us and a therapist can become a seat of the pants counselor.

from World of Psychology https://psychcentral.com/blog/how-therapists-can-become-seat-of-the-pants-counselors/

[travisandersondatingblog]

How To Meet Single Men: 20 Best Places to Find Your Prince Charming

One of the most frustrating things for my female clients, especially those over 40, is knowing how to meet single men. When you’re in college, you meet guys every day, in class or at parties. But when you’re older and you focus your life on raising kids or on your career — and if your social circle is primarily married friends — it can be challenging to find opportunities to meet single men.

Technology Has Made Meeting Single Men Easier

While it can be a conundrum, trying to figure out how to meet single men, there’s one thing that can be tremendously helpful: technology. Not only can dating apps help you connect with men that fit what you’re looking for age, appearance, and career-wise, but you can also find groups on sites like Meetup.com to simply get out and meet more people, regardless of romantic potential.

If you haven’t yet braved the world of online dating, give it a shot. The great thing is that you can curate exactly who you’re looking for. If, for example, you only want to date men who are 6’5″ with dark hair who are engineers, you can set your search parameters for that! At the very least, it gives you practice talking and texting with men, which is always helpful.

Best 20 Places and Ways To Meet Single Men

Many women I know are averse to meeting men online and prefer the more natural in-person method. Still, if you’re not open to opportunities at the right time, you might miss a great guy who’s right beneath your nose!

That being said, you may have to get out of your comfort zone in order to put yourself in places where you’re more likely to meet single men. You won’t meet a guy if you always stay in with your girlfriends (unless the pizza delivery guy is your cup of tea)! So get out there. Go to new places. Try new things. At the very least, you’ll enrich your life and have great experiences.

Here are some places to consider as you figure out where and how to meet single men.

1. Dog Parks

Okay, let me just say this: if you do not have a dog, don’t hang out at a dog park. Because it’s just weird! But if you have a pooch, why not let her get some exercise while scoping out the (hopefully) single doggie dads who are there?

This strategy for how to meet single guys is such a simple one because dogs are such a wonderful conversation starter. Who doesn’t love to have people fawn over their dog? If he ends up being married or taken, at least it’s not weird that you struck up a conversation with him.

Let’s say you see a good-looking guy at the dog park every Thursday night when you take Delilah for a little ball-throwing. Toss the ball in his general direction so you have an excuse to approach. Here’s how that conversation might go.

You: “Hi there. Which one of these pooches is yours?”

Him: “The Dalmatian over there humping the tree.”

You: “Oh wow, he’s quite…exuberant. I’m Tiffany, by the way.”

Him: “Hi Tiffany. I’m Martin. Who’s this bundle of cuteness?”

And just like that, you’ve started a conversation. Just make sure to pick up Delilah’s poop.

2. Standing in Line

Do you ever stop to think about how long we spend standing in lines? Well, you don’t have to wonder because someone else already figured it out: 10 years! What a waste…unless you make the most of that time.

If you’re standing in line behind a cute guy, use a little humor to strike up a conversation:

You: “Hey, what are we standing in line for?” (smile so he knows you’re joking.)

3. On a Plane

via GIPHY

An airplane is a great place to get friendly with just about anyone, including men. It’s tricky though: the man you’re talking to may not live in your city, so you may waste your time on a guy who’s here on vacation (just look around to make sure his wife and kids aren’t sitting on the other side of him). But if the two of you hit it off, having several hours of flight time to get to know each other can be a great spark for things to come.

You: “You’re not a nervous flyer, are you? Because I’m not nervous unless other people are nervous.”

Him: “No, I travel all the time. Don’t worry; if you get nervous, I’ll hold your hand.”

4. The Gym

When it comes to trying to meet guys at a gym, there are two schools of thought:

EW. No way. I’m sweaty and wearing yoga pants.

Hm. There are definitely some hot guys at my gym…

If you’re serious about fitness, this is probably one of the places where you spend the most of your time, so why not figure out how to meet single men at the gym? If you keep seeing the same guy doing deadlifts every week while you’re killing it with squats, take a slow approach.

Week 1: Make eye contact. Smile.

Week 2: Pass him and say “hey.”

Week 3: Find an excuse to talk to him. If you use the same equipment, ask if he’s done (if he looks done). If he’s on equipment you’ve never used, ask if he can show you how to use it.

Keep in mind: you run the risk of going out with this guy and things not working out. Then what will you do about your fitness routine? Change days? Change gyms? Hopefully, it won’t come to that, but get to know him in the guy for a while first before agreeing to go on a date.

5. On Public Transportation

Another place you may spend significant time is on a bus or train commuting to work. Again, this is an opportunity to see the same guy doing the same commute, and there’s opportunity to strike up a conversation.

But realize that if you don’t take a chance, you might regret it later, like Devin Custalow did. After feeling a connection with a man wearing yellow shoes on the subway, she had a mural painted in New York City, inviting the mystery man to meet her on Valentine’s Day. The event drew a crowd…but unfortunately not the yellow-shoed man. Take this story to heart, and be brave enough to strike up that train conversation.

6. Cooking Classes

Want to know how to meet single men? Try a cooking class!

Singles cooking classes are sprouting up all over the world, and they make for a great opportunity to meet single men who, if they don’t already know how to cook, are at least making an effort to! Because cooking classes are so hands-on and involved, they make for a fantastic bonding opportunity.

Often, instructors will pair up a man and woman to partner together, which can make it even easier to get to know a guy. You could ask for tips on dicing, get his opinion on your broth, or simply make fun of his technique.

7. Language Classes

I always say the best way to meet single men is to not try! Do something you’re interested in, and if you meet someone, great! Learning a new language is a great way to stretch your brain (and prepare to visit a new country!).  And you never know who else will be in the class (or teaching it).

A lot of times, language instructors will pair students up to work on an assignment together, so make sure you’re sitting next to that cutie so that you snag him as a partner.

8. Networking Events

If you’re tired of meeting scrubs with crappy jobs, realize that where you meet a man can also determine how successful he is. Professional networking events have two benefits: 1. you’ll expand your professional network and maybe find some great business opportunities and 2. you’ll meet men who are professionally-driven.

In a scientific study, researchers looked at two characteristics of men: prestige and dominance. While dominance was associated with short-term relationships, prestigious men were linked to successful long-term mating. So if you’re looking for something serious, look for a guy who’s successful and likes what he does for a living.

Just a note: networking can be tricky: I know a man who met an attractive woman at a business networking event. They exchanged numbers and set up a dinner “date.” He assumed it was romantic…but she was business-only. Be willing to spend time with this man on a professional level and see where it goes if necessary. Here are a few conversation starters that might help you gauge whether he’s interested without making a fool of yourself:

“It sounds like you work a ton! How does that impact your personal life?”��(this gives him the opportunity to mention a wife or girlfriend if he has one.)

“Wow, if I had a boyfriend who worked as many hours as you do, I’d struggle with that!” (same thing.)

“So what do you do when you’re not kicking ass and taking names at work?”

9. Bars and Restaurants

Socializing at a bar is a great way to meet men.

Let me just say: this tip on how to meet single men requires a little independence because it works best if you’re alone in a bar or restaurant (though it can work if you’ve got your wing women with you). Your best strategy is to sit at the bar alone. I know; a lot of women are uncomfortable with this. But you can chat with the bartender or read a book if you’re uncomfortable. Just don’t get so engrossed in it that you don’t notice the people around you.

Be willing to strike up a conversation!

Ask for the salt shaker

Ask how a drink that a guy ordered tastes

Make a comment/joke about what’s playing on the tv

If you’re into sports, go to a sports bar during a big game. It’s a great icebreaker. Even if you’re rooting for the opposite team, you can still rag on the guy you’re interested in.

10. At the Beach Or Pool

Summertime is here! If you plan on being outdoors and near water a lot this summer, make the most of the opportunity, because you might just meet Mr. Right. It’s a fun, lighthearted place to be, so keep your approach the same.

“Hey there. I think your back is burning. Want me to apply some sunscreen?”

“Excuse me. I can’t reach this spot on my back. Would you mind putting some sunscreen on it?”

11.Vacations and Tourist Spots

“Excuse me, would you mind taking my photo?”

This one’s better for a short-term fling…or if you’re willing to have a long-distance relationship since more than likely a man you meet here won’t be a local.

The bonus is that you’ll have a great time exploring the touristy side of your city. So many locals don’t do what visitors to a city do, so you might find something you never knew existed right beneath your nose.

On the other hand, if you’ve been to the local theme park a dozen times, you can use that opportunity to play tour guide to a man you meet.

If you’re on dating apps, I know men who, when visiting a city, hop on to meet local women who can show them around. They may or may not be looking for a hookup. Some just like having local flavor and making new friends. And hey, if you click, you can always have him return the favor if you visit his city one day!

12. Parties

You feel like you’ve exhausted your social circle’s pool of single and available men, but you never know. Parties are a fabulous opportunity to meet friends of friends of friends. Because everyone is socializing and having a good time, there’s no pressure for the two of you to pair off…but if it happens, you can always get the scoop on what this guy is like from the friends that brought him.

If you’re too shy to introduce yourself, ask a mutual friend to do it. If you’re just a little shy, join a conversation he’s having with other partygoers. If you’re not shy at all, walk right up to him and introduce yourself. That’s that Sexy Confidence at work!

13. Active Events

Get active while meeting a great guy!

If you love getting your 5K on, this is a great way to meet single men! Mud runs, obstacle course challenges, and other active events always attract men, so if you’re physically fit and into that type of activity, why not sign up? Active men are more likely to be drawn to active women, and you’ll already know you have a few things in common.

And hey, don’t be shy about creating a little healthy competition. Just before the race or event starts, look at the guy and say something like, “Think you can beat me? Good luck with that!” then take off, leaving him in your dust.

14. Bar Crawls

Admittedly, being drunk is not the ideal situation to meet a man, but I still know people who ended up being couples after meeting on a bar crawl. The key is going with a friend and setting your limit drinkwise. Tell your friend that no matter how much you like a guy, she is not to let you leave with him! This keeps you safe…and also makes him want to connect with you sober to get to know you.

Lots of cities host singles bar crawls, so do a little searching online to see if there’s an event coming up.

If you meet a guy early in the event, pull back from drinking so much so that you can have your wits about you. And just another safety tip: if he buys you a drink, go with him to the bar so you can watch it being made. This ensures he doesn’t put anything “extra” in that drink. He probably won’t, but as they say: better safe than sorry.

15. Festivals

I live in Boston, and it seems like every weekend (especially in the spring and summer), there’s some sort of festival going on.

Music festivals.

Food and beer fests.

Craft thingies.

Not only are these events a ton of fun, but you can also meet some cool people. I especially like the food and beverage events because there’s something about walking around holding your plate and cup that just disarms people and makes it easy to have a conversation.

“Ooh. That looks good. Where did you get that?”

“What number tasting are you on? Who knew someone could have so many tiny pours of beer!”

16. Sports Clubs

Whether you’re into sailing, tennis, or rock climbing, there’s probably a club for that in your town. Not only will you stay fit, but you’ll also make friends…and maybe even successfully learn how to meet single men there. Even if you don’t meet a single guy at one of the meetups, you might later on through the network you build. Having a shared love of a given sport is a great foundation for a relationship!

17. Church

Who’d have thought church would be a place to meet someone?

If you are a churchgoing soul, never underestimate the power of the spirit. It just might move you to meet someone! The great thing about meeting a man at church is that you know you have shared values. That’s one of the key building blocks for a long and happy relationship (and even marriage), so meeting a man at church is a great start.

If you’re shy about introducing yourself, ask your pastor/priest/minister to do it. And if you don’t have a specific church you go to, look for churches that cater to people your age. Some may even hold singles mixers.

18. Weddings

What is it about weddings that brings single people together? Maybe it’s seeing a happy couple and wanting the same for yourself, but from Meet Positives SM Feed 3 https://ift.tt/2JwPtfx via IFTTT

[lukegoestoolivegarden]

Visit 17 - 17 is the new 16

For those of you looking for visit 16, it appears to have disappeared. I know I wrote it - there was a link to Universal Paperclips and some other shenanigans but the post is gone baby gone. Weird. The rest of my google search history from when I wrote the post on Sunday includes searches for “The Sandlot,” Nietzsche, “Raiders of the Lost Ark Face Melt,” Farm Yoga calendars, The Odd Couple, and “The Wayback Boyz” - so the narrative should be pretty obvious from that. I mean that’s pretty paint-by-numbers stuff.

It’s weird to think that post is gone forever. Whatever words I put together to connect The Odd Couple to Farm Yoga no longer exist. It’s like a sand mandala but with more swearing.

But here at LGTOG (suggested pronunciation ‘Legit OG’), we don’t look backwards, we charge ahead like a T-Rex eating unlimited salad.

As a Dinosaur-American, Halloween is the best day of the year, because you’re no longer just some dude in a T-Rex costume, you’re celebrating a holiday. You can wear the T-Rex costume all day at the office.

Travis wears ties because he believes in following the dress code. Travis has his badge visible at all times because he believes in following security policies. Travis does not wear pants because he is a rebel.

It’s a #LukeWorldProblem trying to decide between wearing Travis (or more correctly, Travis wears me) or the Chewbacca onesie. I had a meeting over in the corporate headquarters, coworker’s prairie dogging over the cube walls as I headed towards the door closest to the HQ building.

I thought about combining the two costumes - showing up in the T-Rex and announcing “Sorry, let me change into something more professional” then stripping off Travis to reveal the Chewbacca onesie underneath. Which let’s be honest is all kinds of hilarious. But I only knew about half the people in the meeting - including three people that outrank me and that I have never met before - and I figured that might be pushing my luck.

So I settled for going to the meeting wearing Travis, then high-fiving a guy in the lobby who was pretty clearly there for an interview. (Note to self, talk to HR about getting a referral bonus)

I took the rest of my meeting in Travis - “It’s really hard to have a serious conversation with you right now,” one said as we discussed how many contractors we needed to bring on board. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when you’re wearing a T-Rex costume mostly because you can do things like hold the phone up to the dinosaur head when you’re on boring conference calls, which again, is hilarious. 

The day ended significantly later than expected, finally walking out of the building at 6 pm having burned through two sets of batteries during the day, and off for a quick stop at the place where “When you’re here, you’re family...even if you’re extinct.”

My favorite bartender was working - Mike? Matt? Mark? - who has become my favorite bartender because he’s pretty consistently a 4 bread stick guy. I realized this week that I’m down to the final 3 weeks before Pasta Passed-Away Day, and Olive Garden disappears like an oregano scented Brigadoon.

And much like how I decided to run my first half-marathon because it happened to fall on my birthday during the year when I lived down in New Zealand, I decided to go to Olive Garden in a T-Rex outfit.

Part of this was logistics - I didn’t have any other clothes besides the shorts and t-shirt that I was wearing under Travis...well and a Chewbacca onesie. But if you’re going to go through the effort of wearing a Chewbacca onesie to Olive Garden, you might as well go all the way and just wear the T-Rex (Some of you would question why not just not stop at Olive Garden, and to you I say:

The hostess asked to take a picture “So that way she didn’t have to go all the way to Tennessee to see a dinosaur” which I thought was kind of a weird reference until I remembered the “T-Rex Stampede”

Listen, I’m not going to make claims that I should be considered an elite T-Rex runner. I’ll just let the video - from a trail run, no less!! - speak for itself.

Ooh, you’re running over a paved bridge. Way to go Nashville, or should I say N-ass-ville. Try running over a muddy wooden bridge and roots and rocks and leaves. Now that’s how you do a T-Rex run. Amateurs. 

Only 364 days until next Halloween.

Visit 17 - Salad, breadsticks (4, thanks Mike/Mark/Matt/Melvin), cavatappi with 5 cheese marinara

[recordofmyreverie]

Everyone Was a Reflection (October 2016)

Asheville, NC was easily becoming my favorite place to escape to. I’m glad it’s only 3 hours away from where I live in Charlotte. Asheville had so much art and so much spirituality, it seemed like the perfect environment for me to forget about someone. . .if only that person weren’t also free-spirited and artsy. 

I went to Asheville in search of spiritual guidance or some sort of help in my situation, but I didn’t know what exactly I was looking for. I decided to book my stay in a hostel called “Bon-Paul and Sharky’s Hostel” in West Asheville. I had stayed in one other hostel before back when I was still with Ryan when we visited Charleston for our 6 month anniversary, and I loved the concept and the environment of hostels and how you could meet travelers from all over the world. 

While I was in Asheville the first day, I felt so unhappy. Everywhere I looked, there was something that reminded me of SW. I broke down when I heard The Beatles playing in one of the stores and had to go back to the hostel crying. It was a long walk, and I was even being stalked. A drunk man was chasing me down the road at night, so it became a long run actually. I was scared, sad, and lost. I called my friend Margarita and when she picked up the phone, I was panting. 

She asked me what was wrong, and I told her that I was just chased by a drunk man in Asheville who was following me, but I’d lost him. I said that I was alone and that I just needed to hear a friend’s voice. She drove an hour from Greenville, SC on a night before she had a test to come and meet me for tea at my favorite place in Asheville, Dobra Tea. That’s what I call a true friend. 

That night, she listened to me cry over my broken heart as we sat on floor pillows behind a beaded curtain. I’m glad the lighting was dim. I showed her the proof that SW was already seeing someone else, and she asked me why I couldn’t just block him.  I did already block him, but I couldn’t help but keep looking at it. I was heavily fixated on what I was missing. The only way I could stop seeing the things that he posted was if I had him block me, but he wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t talk to me at all. Wouldn’t listen to me, and I felt like he wanted me to keep seeing what he was posting because he knew I’d be looking and wanted to hurt me more. 

I stepped down to a level of petty that I’d never reached before, and started commenting mean things on all of his photos so that he WOULD want to block me. I think the final straw was when I had commented on the photo of the painting of the moth he made for me when we first met “This would look so much better if it were on fire.”

Blocked. 

The deal was done, and now I could breathe a little better, only now I was catching my breath from laughing with my friend about how ridiculous my comments were. We left Dobra Tea satisfied that I wouldn’t be tortured by my own addiction anymore, and then headed to the comedy club to catch the last hour or two of the show. I realized that a lot of comedians were really depressed themselves and used laughter as a way to make other people feel better about themselves which also made them feel better about themselves. 

She drove us back to my hostel and as we sat in the car, all I could think about was how thankful I was to have her come out to spend time with me while I was so down. 

“Thank you so much, Margarita. It felt good to laugh again. You are a really great friend. I love you so much!” I hugged her. 

“Anytime, Kiana. I know you would do the same for me if you had to. Sleep well. I’ve got a test in a few hours!” She hugged me back.

I walked back up the stairs to my room where there were 3 sets of bunkbeds. Mine was a mixed dorm, and all of the beds were taken in the room by sound-asleep men except for one bed on the top bunk. That was where I was supposed to sleep, but barely did. My stomach was hurting so much. It was agonizing. 

I stayed awake browsing options on my phone for spiritual healers and therapists, and I came across something interesting that I’d never tried before. Reiki. 

I’d heard of reiki before, but I didn’t know exactly what it was or how it worked. I thought maybe it was some sort of massage or something, but I found out what it was when I went there the next afternoon. Now I couldn’t sleep because I was excited to be healed. 

I went downstairs at about 4 AM to draw a picture or do anything to take my mind off of things. I already knew who I was going to dream about if I slept, and I wanted to prevent that from happening. Around 5 AM, a girl wearing a backpack and glasses came yawning downstairs. She was a little startled to see me sitting there on the couch with my eyes wide open and awake. 

“Oh! Hello! I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now! What’s your name? I’m Yrla.” She said.

I introduced myself, and she could see that my face was puffy and I still had tears on my cheeks. She said that there was a place I could go to meditate called the “Mountain Light Sanctuary” where there was complete silence on and tranquility on the top of a mountain. She said she would go there when she was sad too, but if I didn’t have time for that, we could just go grab some coffee next door. 

I accepted her offer of kindness and followed her to the coffeeshop next door called “Odd’s Café”. I found out later that it was quite an appropriate name, since I didn’t think that I’d meet so many influential and wise women there. 

Yrla told me the story of herself and her travels. She was originally from Germany, but then she attended a University in Scotland where she met her boyfriend from Canada. She was now studying abroad in the United States so that she could be closer to him and so that they could travel together. She’d been an English teacher in Indonesia already, and she was still only 23. She was proof to me that long distance relationships could work if you had the right people in them, and that you could find so many opportunities to travel even if you don’t know what you’re doing in life yet. She said it only mattered that you knew where you were going or at least where you wanted to go. 

She had to catch the bus to go back to school, so our conversation was cut short, but I managed to snap a quick photo of her to commemorate our brief meeting. When I took the photo of her, my camera caught the eye of a woman sitting a couple seats down from us. 

“Wow. I haven’t seen a camera that did that in ages. Polaroids are coming back, huh? I’ve always had a different level of appreciation for film, and it makes me happy to see film coming back” She said. 

I picked up my lavender latte and moved to a seat across from hers. I introduced myself to her, and she introduced herself to me as “Amy Kosh, life coach, photographer, and part-time yoga instructor.”

I knew that this woman was going to be worth talking to. She told me about her work, how she was loving what she was doing, and that a lot of men took forever to mature. She said that sometimes it took forever to find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, that she still hadn’t found hers even in her 40s, and that her mom just found hers at 80 years old. Most importantly, we need to be careful who we feed our energy to because some people won’t bother to repay us. She referred to it as asking “What part of me is being fed by these people needing me?”

She told me that she wished me luck in my endeavor to find an answer, and then let me pick out my favorite business cards of hers to keep. One was a photography business card, and the other was a life-coach business card which had a quote by Kurt Vonnegut reading “We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down.” Amy reminded me to have “an unstoppable life” before we parted.

I was on a roll with meeting these women with important messages. When I went back to the hostel, it was 10 AM.  I decided to book my Reiki appointment which the office happened to be literally right across the street, and then I met a girl named Mia who I could tell was half Asian and half white like me. She wore a funky-patterned shirt, and I knew she probably had something I needed to know. I could sense it. 

We started talking to each other and sharing what we liked to do when we came to Asheville, why we were there that time, and where we were from. She shared that she came from a town called Mobile, Alabama. I’d driven through Alabama before and had seen the signs for Mobile when driving back from Panama City Beach before, but I’d still never been to Mobile. I imagined it to be swampy for some reason. She told me that I was welcome to come join her in her stroll through downtown, but first we got more coffee at Odd’s Café. What were the odds?

Mia and I went to my favorite book store, and she took me to hers. We went through art galleries, she bought us some Indian food, and I bought us ice cream. As she was driving us back to the hostel for me to make it in time for my reiki appointment, she shared that she had taken a road trip in her Honda Civic from Alabama to the Pacific northwest coast. She couch-surfed along the way and spent three months and $3,000 traveling. Her work back home was as a bartender at a 1920′s themed bar called the Haberdasher, and at the time of her travels, she had just gotten into a new relationship with a guy named Jesse. She considered not going on the trip, but knew that she would regret staying back and doing the same thing instead of pursuing something that was a once-in-a-lifetime deal that she’d been planning and saving up for. She didn’t let a guy hold her back from doing what she wanted, and they’re still together because they trust each other so much. If she didn’t go on the trip, she probably never would have realized that she wanted to move to Portland, Oregon, and that’s where she just moved a couple days ago as I’m typing this on March 29th, 2017. 

She really inspired me to start traveling by myself more often and to do as much traveling as I could independently without anyone stopping me because if it’s meant to be and those people are truly important, they won’t stop you, they’ll motivate you and meet you at the finish line. 

Around 3 PM it was time for my first ever reiki session with a woman named Chris. She first interviewed me and had me fill out a chart depicting the areas I felt the most pain in, had me describe the circumstances which lead me to coming in the first place, what I’d hope to accomplish in the session, and what I felt comfortable with her using. I was willing and open to trying anything to feel better, so I let her use any aromatherapy, stones, or spirit guides she thought necessary. 

I had to lay down on a small bed as she placed an eye pillow on top of my eyelids. She would scan my body with her hands, and I could feel the heat coming from them. She’d stop and press gently in the areas where she could feel needed the most healing. I needed the most healing in my throat, my ears, and my abdomen. During this time, I was in a trance and seeing all sorts of colors. When she called upon my spirit guides, I could see the outline of a feminine and colorful force of energy offering her hand to me. I immediately thought of my Aunt Karen. 

The session lasted maybe 2 hours. I never knew what to think of anything like that, but I could now say from first-hand experience that I knew it was real. I felt surges of energy coming through me which sent shivers down my spine. And when it was done, I felt so hungry even though I’d eaten just before showing up. She said that after the experience, I would start becoming more receptive and much more aware of the things going on around me. She said most importantly that I would find that everyone was a reflection of me in some way, and that there was something to be learned from everyone. She said I needed to work on getting my strength back because I had given so much of my power to other people, and that’s why my abdomen was hurting. My abdomen was where my ego was located, and I apparently had no self-esteem left. My throat hurt because I had no voice. My ears hurt because I felt like I was never being heard. 

Since that particular visit to Asheville, I feel like I’ve received way more guidance and hope than I ever could have wished for. I had not one, but five mentors during that trip who really inspired me and helped me all in their own unique conversations. Not one lesson was the same, but I’ve made it a mission to find a way that I could inspire others and share my stories to people that might need healing like I did myself that day.